


Bessie

by ETNMystic



Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [19]
Category: The Bad Seed (1956)
Genre: based on the movie "the bad seed.", cw dolls, cw possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: A party, a little sister, and a doll.What could go wrong?
Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726699
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Bessie

I'm almost finished setting the table. My party is going to start in less than half an hour and everything needs to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. I want the judges to be impressed and have fun. 

At my high school, every freshman is evaluated in some way. The judges, also known as the popular girls, are nothing like other popular girls. They don't judge you right away. Instead they give you a chance to make others perceive you in a certain way. I've invited my friends, the judges, and a few other kids to my Halloween/birthday party. That way I have a few people to stand up for me in case I run into any trouble.

I go over the checklist.

"Table set, check. Activities organized, check. Refreshments, check. Annoying little sister out of the way."

I look at the doorway to see my eight year old sister Rhoda, dressed in a party jumper and black, hard-soled shoes, her hair in two braids, holding a large bowl of punch.

"Rhoda, didn't I say that I want you out of the way of this party?" I ask angrily.

"Sorry, Christine. It's just that I want to help out."

"Well, go and help mother then."

"But you never play or do anything with me. Besides, mother asked me to bring out this bowl of punch," she says.

"Fine. Put the punch on the table and then leave," I say frustrated.

Careful not to spill, she slowly walks over to the covered table and sets the glass bowl of punch on it. Before leaving however, she removes a small bottle from her pocket and pours it into the punch.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Just adding a bit of flavor to the punch."

I give her a confused look.

"Trust me, Christine. I had some of this flavoring in my tea the other day. It is delicious. It's so good, people are just dying to have a sip of it," she says pouring the contents into the punch.

As soon as the bottle is empty, she skips out of the room.

There's something different about Rhoda. She's not like other girls her age. She never wants to play tea party with dolls or dress-up clothes. She always wants to play the weirdest games where there's a murder. 

And she always carries this creepy little doll around with her. The doll has on a ragged dress and has black button eyes. But, once in a while, I swear that the eyes are red instead of black. Red like blood. I thinks Rhoda calls her Bessie. That must be why I don't play with her, I think as I finish setting the table.

* * *

The doorbell rings. I jump up from the couch to find that Claude and LeRoy, two of my best friends, have arrived.

"Claude! LeRoy! You made it," I say happily.

"Hey, Christine. Is Rhoda still mad at me?" asks Claude hesitantly.

"I don't know. She hasn't said anything bad about you, nor has she said anything good."

Rhoda and Claude had competed in a race back in May. Claude had won the prize; a gold medal, which Claude wore on his party shirt now.nBut Rhoda had insisted that Claude had cheated and that the medal was rightfully hers.

"Christine, have you seen Bessie?" Rhoda asks sweetly as she skips into the party, the soles of the shoes tapping on the wooden floor. She skids to a halt when she sees Claude.

"Hello, Claude," she said soberly.

"Hello, Rhoda," he says kindly.

"I see that you still have my medal."

"Rhoda, why is the medal so important to you?"

"It was the only gold medal that they gave out during the entire competition. That medal is mine and you know it, Claude."

"Rhoda, I thought you said that you were going to stay out of the way," I say quickly.

"I can't find Bessie. Do you know where she is?"

"No, I don't."

"Maybe Claude could help me look," she says.

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"It's okay, Christine. It will only take a few minutes," says Claude as he walks away with Rhoda, but not before Rhoda scoops out a cup full of punch.

"That wasn't a good idea, Christine," says LeRoy.  
"I don't trust that little girl. She's too sweet for her own good."

"How about you come sit down, LeRoy?" I ask as the doorbell rings again.

The others have arrived, including the judges.

"Come right in. Have a seat," I say.

* * *

The party goes well for a while. I soon start to worry about Claude and ask another one of my friends to check on him. A while later, we hear a loud scream coming from the backyard. Panicked feet follow as my friend, Monica, heads back inside, looking ghastly.

"Monica, what happened?" I ask worried.

Monica starts blathering.

"Monica, what's wrong?!" I yell.

"C-Claude," she stutters frightfully.

"What about him?"

"He-he-he's dead!"

"Dead?"

"I went into the backyard to find him. I heard someone yell 'Give it to me!' and then I heard a loud splash. I went to find Claude in your pool. He had been badly bruised, probably by whatever he had been hit with, and his medal was missing."

"Was there anyone else around besides you?"

"I think your sister was there as well. But not for too long."

"Rhoda? Oh no! She must be so scared."

"Scared about what?" asks Rhoda as she enters the room.

I notice that her shoes are missing.

"Claude has died. Monica says that you were with him when he died. Are you alright?" I ask.

"Of course I'm alright."

"But aren't you sorry that he's dead?"

"Why? He was the one who drowned, not me," she says as she walks away.

* * *

The party ends too early. I keep thinking about Rhoda's behavior when I told her about Claude's death. I'm reading a magazine when I hear a floorboard creak. I look up to see Rhoda, a paper bag in her hands.

"What's in the bag?" I ask.

"Nothing," Rhoda says quickly.

"Rhoda, what's in the bag?"

"I said nothing."

I get up and try to take the bag from her hands.

"Let go! Let go!" she screams.

"Let's see what's in the bag!" I say forcefully.

"No! It's mine! Let go of it!" she screams.

The bag tears open. Inside of it is a gold medal and a pair of black, hard-soled shoes. They look exactly like the ones Rhoda wore at the party. The ones that were missing just shortly after Claude's death.

"You hit him with the shoes. That's why he's got those bruises. Well, didn't you? Answer me, Rhoda!" I say shocked.

"Christine, sweet Christine, you're stressed about the loss of your best friend. You need to lie down and rest," Rhoda says sweetly.

"Stop it, Rhoda! Answer me!" I yell on the verge of tears.  
"You killed Claude, didn't you? Start from the beginning and tell me exactly what happened."

She sits down on the couch.

"We went out to the backyard. I cornered him and told him to give me the medal or else. But he wouldn't give it to me, so I made him drink the cup of punch."

"T-the punch?"

"I told him to give it to me or else. But he still wouldn't do it. I waited for the arsenic to kick in, and when it didn't, I took off my shoes and hit him hard with them! He still wouldn't give the medal to me. I kept hitting him until he did! Then he tried to run away, but I was afraid that he would tell on me, so I hit him in the back of the head until he fell. He fell into the pool."

"Is that it?"

"No, I had Bessie with me the entire time. She kept telling me to do what I had to do. And I did."

"The punch. What about it?"

"The bottle wasn't filled with flavoring. I filled it with arsenic. And the glass bowl wasn't filled with punch. It was blood. The blood was from the time mother went to the hospital to get stitches from that cut last summer. The doctor wouldn't give me the blood when I asked for it. The floor was slippery. I slipped on it and fell into her. She happened to be holding a knife near her chest."

"And that was it?"

"No, I slipped on purpose. Oh, Christine what am I going to do? If the police find out, they'll put me in the electric chair! Please don't let them hurt me!" she says, pulling me into a hug.

"I wish I could help, but why don't you feel guilty about what you did to Claude?"

"I don't know. I just can't. Guilty isn't even a word in my vocabulary."

"Wait a minute. When you slipped back at the hospital, did you have Bessie with you?"

"Yes."

"And when you murdered Claude, she was with you as well?"

"Yes."

"Rhoda, listen to me. Take Bessie and the shoes. Put them in the chute that leads to the furnace. And don't say a word about this to anyone!"

Rhoda walks out of the room casually as if nothing had happened. I decide to head on up to bed.

* * *

It's the middle of the evening. I'm catching up on homework when I hear screams coming from LeRoy's house next door. I smell smoke and I can feel the heat of flames. 

I rush to the window to see that his house is on fire. I have a bad feeling about this. Things like this don't happen on their own.

"Rhoda?! Rhoda, where are you?" I yell.

"I'm right here, Christine," says Rhoda calmly as she enters the room. I find that she still has Bessie and the shoes.

"Rhoda, I know you had something to do with LeRoy's house fire. Now don't lie to me. Tell me what happened!"

She gives a sigh and sits back down on the couch.

"I put Bessie and the shoes down the chute like you told me to. But LeRoy got ahold of them and told me. He said that he wouldn't give them to me, so I had to kill him! What else could I do?" she says hysterically.

"Rhoda, when you kill someone, Bessie is always with you, correct?"

"Yes, I always keep her in my dress pocket."

"Does she ever.....talk to you?" I ask.

"Yes, she does. Bessie's my conscience. She tells me who is at fault in a situation. She tells me the best way to do away with someone. I want to say no, but she takes control of me. I feel like I have two personalities and the bad side wins out when I'm angry. When it does, I kill the person I'm angry with, but I don't remember anything about it. Until you force it out of me."

"Rhoda, give me Bessie and the shoes," I say.

"Why?"

"Give them to me," I says forcefully.

She hands the shoes over without hesitation.

"Bessie as well."

"I didn't put her down the chute! I felt like I would die if she burned in the furnace!"

"Give Bessie to me!"

"No!"

I snatch the doll out of her hand.

"This will be the last time you kill anyone!" I say.

I grab ahold of her arm and pull her to her room. Pushing her inside, I shut the door and lock it from the outside. I can't do it now. I have to wait until Rhoda is asleep.

* * *

I get up at around midnight. I take the doll and the shoes from my dresser. I sneak quietly downstairs when I hear a voice.

"You shouldn't do away with me, Christine," says a voice. It sounds like Rhoda's. I try to convince myself that I'm hearing things and carry on.

"You'd better give me back to Rhoda," the voice says a little louder.

"Who said that?" I ask, stopping in my tracks.

"It's me," the voice says. It's coming from the doll,

"You'd better not do away with me or you'll be sorry."

I panic and rush to the chute. I throw the door open and stuff the doll and shoes down the chute. As I walk away, I hear the voice coming from the chute.

"You'd better get me out of here. You don't want anything to happen to Rhoda, do you?"

I hear a scream coming from upstairs. Rhoda! In a panic, I rush upstairs. I shake the knob violently until I remember that I had locked it. I hastily unlock the door and throw it open. I dash to Rhoda's bed and pull the covers off. Rhoda looks to be asleep, but what's in her hand? I examine it and I shriek in fright. Bessie.

"Rhoda?" I ask frightened.

Rhoda's eyes snap open. She sits up, turns her head, and stares at me. Her eyes are vacant.

"Rhoda, you need to get rid of that doll!" I exclaim as I try to take Bessie from her.

She pulls the doll away.

"Bessie doesn't like how you are speaking to her," Rhoda says, her tone has become almost robotic.

"Rhoda, snap out of it! That doll is evil and needs to be burned!"

"Bessie is a human. I am her doll," says Rhoda.

"R-R-Rhoda?"

"Pick up the letter opener on your nightstand, Rhoda," says Bessie.

Rhoda grabs it without hesitation.

"Christine is at fault. She tried to do away with me. She must be done away with," says Bessie.

"Christine must be done away with," says Rhoda robotically, walking towards me with the letter opener.

Bessie smiles evilly as Rhoda aims the letter opener at my chest.

"I told you that you would be sorry."


End file.
